


Eeek! A series! What the heck was I thinking?!!

by Byrdie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Episode Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-22
Updated: 2004-09-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrdie/pseuds/Byrdie
Summary: Mace Windu and a *very* personal question ::hee-hee!::





	1. Am I What?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

"Were you masturbating?" 

 

Qui Gon *would* ask. Mace Windu blushed and blurted out the truth. "No, it's my underwear. That Sith-possessed new laundry droid... " 

 

Young Kenobi snickered. First time he'd heard that one. 

 

He wasn't buying it, knowing too well the Councilor's appetites. Neither he nor his Master minded, but -- in a meeting with the President *and* the Queen? Ye gods, what a shameless slut! 

 

"Maybe, but I'm yours," Mace reminded. "And C-3PO *did* shrink my favorite red G-string. See?" Off came the formal Jedi robes. 

 

Master and Padawan exchanged hot glances, then pounced. 

 

Mace grinned. He was *so* gonna be fucked. 

 

******* 

 

He was *so* gonna be sick. "Perfectly normal given the circumstances," Healer Maruko reassured. From Yoda: "When nine hundred babies *you* have had ..." 

 

Mace's last conscious thought was Dark Side or no, this time his husbands were dead meat. 

 

THE END...


	2. Diplomatic Relations

"Are you masturbating again?" 

 

Shamefaced, Qui Gon hung his head. He was supposed to be getting dressed but ... "I just needed to cum," he confessed. 

 

Obi Wan Kenobi leered. "Oh, you will, Kitten." Slipped a gold cock ring onto his beloved. "When I say so. Now into your harness, before we're late." 

 

# 

 

 

The Correllian Ambassador's jaw dropped. The Argylli High Potentate drooled. And two thirds of the temple had serious trouble keeping paws, claws and tentacles to themselves. Mace Windu, resplendent in rubies and very little else, disdained the openly lustful stares. Qui Gon Jinn preened, rubbed himself sinuously against his larger mate's bare butt. Both men moaned. A firm tug on their leashes was a reminder from their husband to behave. The N'Hana Pope and her Royal Consort must first couple on the altar, after which the whole congregation -- including three life bonded Jedi -- were free to worship. With whatsoever partners they might find. 

 

Halfway through, Obi Wan seriously considered turning Sith. Nobody'd bat an eye then if he blasted the next bugger caught groping what was clearly his into oblivion. He'd lost count of all the mind whammies. 

 

"That's it," he growled. "We're outta here." 

 

"But, the treaty --" Mace argued, even as Qui Gon stroked his cock, squeezed his balls and thrust two fingers into his warm, wet pussy. He started fucking himself on those knowing digits. Being knocked up only added to the pleasure. His dick and clit throbbed furiously with the need to cum. Preferably while having his ass thoroughly plowed. 

 

# 

 

"Force, yes! Harder!" Qui mentally begged, mouth too full of Mace for speech. Obi Wan obliged, pounding into that wanton little hole. So good! His Kitten -- make that alley cat -- was almost there. Pleading for release with each stroke to his prostate. Spasming wildly through a ninth dry orgasm, triggered by the sudden salty flood down his throat. Milking young Kenobi of yet another hot load. Screaming in ecstasy as both rock-hard cocks impaled him again, cunt and ass, and fucked him senseless. He was so full of semen he'd slosh if he moved. If he *could* move, after such a going over. 

 

Oh bliss! The cock ring, keyed only to his husbands' Force signatures, finally floated off. Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn howled, rivaling a Krayt she-dragon in heat as his long-denied prick gushed forth its offering. Then he passed out. 

 

******* 

 

Three standard Coruscant months later the treaty was ratified. Already there was talk of full Republic membership. Her Holiness had been most impressed by the piety -- and stamina -- of the Jedi delegation. The Council was pleased. Only Qui Gon Jinn complained. His back was aching, his ankles were swollen, and his belly was as big as Mace's. 

 

Twins. 

 

******* 

 

THE END?


	3. Return of the Sith

"Is he still masturbating?" a worried Mace Windu asked Qui Gon Jinn. It was almost a week since their husband had suddenly come down ...er, up ... umm, whatever ... with what could only be described as a severe case of satyriasis compounded by priapism. In plain Basic, he just couldn't stop fucking. Or as was the case right now, jerking off. And it didn't seem to matter where he was or who else was present, he kept right on doing it. "That's Obi Wan Kenobi. He's playing with himself." A senior padawan who should have known better had been overheard informing the gaggle of novices in her charge as they passed him in the temple garden where mid-morning exercises were being held. Master Lanys had promptly chastised the gawking youngsters then, with proper Jedi discretion, informed the Councilor. Who, despite his hugely pregnant bulk -- at eleven-plus months along, Mace was nearly a fortnight overdue -- had come running. With a waddling Qui Gon hot on his heels. 

 

They'd gotten their errant mate indoors and into the bedroom, where he now sat in much the same position as before. Stark naked, eyes glazed and staring into space, both hands wrapped firmly around a rampant erection. What to do now? Qui Gon's ass was already sore from servicing him and his jaw ached from more or less constantly sucking him off. All to no avail. Obi couldn't cum and his hard-on just wouldn't go away. Even the Force didn't help. Time to bite the blaster bolt and send for the Healers. 

 

"Help him they cannot." A startled Mace clutched at his swollen abdomen. "Sheesh! You trying to scare this kid out of me or what?" Yoda grandly ignored him and continued. "Of the Dark this is, my padawan. An enemy thought defeated, yes? He ravishes your bondmate. Sense his nature you do not?" 

 

Qui Gon Jinn closed his eyes, reached out with the Force. For a moment, nothing. Then ... "Xanatos," he whispered, mind reeling from the shock of his discovery. "I thought he was dead." 

 

"We *all* thought he was dead," Mace cut in. Mentally, he added, "so this isn't your fault, my love." But Qui Gon wouldn't hear it. "I have to find him, put an end to this once and for all." 

 

"High time an end there was," the diminutive Master agreed. His oversized ears twitched. "But not for you to make. After Xanatos I will go." 

 

Yoda's favorite ex-padawan bristled. Not that anyone who wasn't (a:)Jedi and (b:)on intimate terms with Qui Gon could tell. He sighed. Slow, these humans. Always had to have things spelled out for them. And stubborn. This one was no exception. "Defeated the Sith you did, yes. But with you was Obi Wan," he reminded. "And full of babies your belly was not. Slow your reflexes they do. Fight now you cannot." 

 

Just then one of the twins kicked. His sister joined in. Qui Gon sent soothing thoughts, shielding them from his own deeply troubled ones. "I know that, Master." The barest hint of quiet despair in his voice as he added, one hand rubbing soothing little circles over the rippling bulge in his middle. "But *I'm* the one he wants." 

 

"Want you he does." The obscene Ewok gesture caught Mace and Qui Gon completely off-guard. "That," smirked the little green troll, "is the problem." 

 

# 

 

Los Eikros. Glamour to rival Coruscant's, greed to rival the Hutts. Daughter of Darkness dressed up in bright light. Yoda was not deceived. It had taken him all of an afternoon to penetrate Xanatos' lair. It was almost as if the Sith were expecting a Jedi to come calling. The Fallen One stepped out of the shadows expectantly, almost eagerly. You'd think he was greeting a long-absent lover. It was almost comical, the expression on his bizarrely painted face when he realized the intruder was Yoda and not his former Master. "You!" he yelped. Pouting like the spoiled scion of minor nobility he'd been born -- it did absolutely nothing for his looks -- he demanded, "Where's Qui Gon?" 

 

No answer. "Damnit, I want my husband," Xanatos snarled. 

 

"Yours he is not," Yoda replied calmly. He was quite amused. *This* was the Terror of Naboo? A whiny little brat with delusions of empire. Well, he'd had plenty of experience dealing with brats. Centuries, in fact -- just look how many padawans he'd raised. 

 

"Is too! He *promised* me! On Taralah, when I was fifteen." 

 

That much was true, Qui Gon and Xanatos had been betrothed. The Council -- with few exceptions; one of whom had been Yoda, for reasons he would not at the time reveal -- gave it their blessing. The ceremony was to have taken place a year, a month and a day later, in accordance with Jedi tradition. But on the very night before ... 

 

"Called off the wedding Qui Gon did. Caught you in bed with Senator Palpatine." 

 

"Big deal. It was only a blowjob, not like we were fucking or anything. And even if we were, I like sex." He wriggled his hips suggestively and Yoda couldn't help but notice his erection. Along with the weird glowing cage encircling it. "Lots and *lots* of sex." 

 

"Lust without love, a Jedi craves not." Yoda countered. Xanatos grabbed his crotch and sneered. "Oh yeah? Just ask that little Kenobi punk." Rough, crude thrusts of his dripping cock; the harder he fucked his fist the brighter the crimson whatever-it-was grew. He grunted. Moaned. "Ughhh ... give it to me, Obi Wan." 

 

Taking advantage of the other's distraction, Yoda sent out a careful mental probe. And discovered that his suspicions were correct; the alien device *was* the source of his much loved grand-padawan's recent ... obsession. That was the good news. The bad news was that, like many totally legitimate sexual aids, this one was keyed to its owner's unique Force signature. Which meant even the most powerful Jedi was incapable of turning it off. The ancient eyes narrowed. It *had* to be turned off, before the damage to Obi Wan's mind and body became irreparable. Only one way to do it. 

He ignited his lightsaber. 

 

It was all over so quickly Xanatos had neither time nor breath to scream. 

 

# 

 

On Coruscant, several things happened seemingly all at once. The psychic disturbances that even the least Force-sensitive beings had been feeling abruptly ceased. It was as if the planet Herself had awakened, suddenly refreshed, from a hot and bothersome dream. In his quarters at the Jedi temple, Obi Wan Kenobi's friction blistered hands finally stilled their automaton movements. His blood-raw cock quivered and spat thick ribbons of cum high into the air before -- praise the Light! -- finally deflating. He collapsed, sore, exhausted, but thankfully his own sane self, into his primary husband's tender arms. 

 

Mace Windu's water broke. A scant hour later, a healthy male infant's lusty cries rang out. Healer Maruko cut the cord and, after his first bath, presented him to his birth father, who seemed totally awestruck at having produced such a small, vibrant wonder. This despite the fact that, on his planet as well as Qui Gon's, fully one third of all the men were as naturally capable of bearing as they were of begetting offspring. Carefully, lovingly, he cradled his newborn son to his breast. The hungry infant instinctively latched on to a cocoa brown nipple and began to nurse. 

 

# 

 

EPILOGUE: 

 

On a freighter rapidly approaching a tiny backwater world so distant it made Tatooine look like the center of the galaxy, there emerged a stowaway from his hiding place in one of the rear cargo holds. Better to fade quietly into exile than return to face the scorn and derision of his peers. Not to mention his Master Palpatine's wrath at this latest development. His actions had been completely unauthorized, yet he'd been supremely confident he could lure the Jedi into a trap using his best weapon -- sex -- against Qui Gon Jinn. Who would no doubt do anything to protect his padawan, husband, and the father of at least one of his unborn twins. 

 

Even turn to the Dark Side. 

 

A deep grimace twisted the stowaway's features. Gone were the paint and posturing, but the ring-shaped scar on his cheek identified him. Xanatos. Alive, but not whole. Never again whole. He cursed, a long and bitter polyglot litany, remembering all the healers who'd told him that bacta could only do so much. Then the know-it-all medtechs who'd insisted that, in his case, prosthetics were useless. Not to mention the quacks of all persuasions he'd run across since his injury. He saved his foulest language, however, for Yoda. Why the *fuck* had that annoying little hobgoblin not killed him when he'd had the chance? Better that than the humiliating fate that was his, a thousand times better by far. 

 

Maul, Sidious, Palpatine. Names that inspired victory, that struck terror into even the bravest of hearts. Not his, not any more. He wasn't even Xanatos, not really. His new name ... he shuddered in horror. 

 

Now and forever he would be known as Darth Dickless. 

 

******* 

 

The End ....for now!


End file.
